


Frost of Yesteryears

by Causedragonsman (CauseDragonsMan)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: :/, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, No Dialogue, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Ultimate Sacrifice, but it’s tragic :(, consider this the depressing finale to my time in the GoT/AOIAF realm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CauseDragonsMan/pseuds/Causedragonsman
Summary: Arya isn’t so lucky and suffers at the hand of the Night King.Canon Divergence
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Kudos: 4





	Frost of Yesteryears

At the end she’s reduced to Arya Stark. Acting in the name of those she loves, not at the heed or orders of the faceless or just to survive, but to protect. And Arya Stark stays and protects her pack to her last fighting breath.

She’s done it, but as always when she wants to help others or seems to finally have her pack together, it comes at a great price to her.

“Death must pay for life,” she thought posthumously.

With the dagger between her ribs, courtesy of the Night King, she knows that she won’t be as lucky as she was in Bravos.

Her brother sits not far from her, but she’s never felt so alone and smothered at the same time. In the Godswood, she feels the presence of her gods cradling her and singing her praise. But in her mortal realm, she silently pleads for her brothers reassurance. Anything.

She knows firsthand what it’s like to see your sibling dead, Rob Stark with the head of Grey Wind brought to mind, the nightmares haunting her ever since. But she can’t help but be selfish. She’s not had many occasions to have be in the span of her life, none of them have. But she simply doesn’t care in the face of death.

She grows scared as she feels her once warm blood turn cold. Cold as the statues down in the crypt.

If the gods are kind as they are in the ringing of her ears, she’ll soon be with her father, brother, and mother. She is filled with further dread, if possible, at the thought of seeing Jon, Sansa, or Gendry there too.

It must show on her face, because she swears she see Bran’s eyebrows raise, if only just a twitch of a muscle. She’ll take it. She doesn’t want to die a lone wolf like she always feared.

Like being held underwater, she feels her paws on the hard ground. The frantic, harsh movement of her lungs. Pure exertion. Having a brief vision of what she thinks is the forest from Riverlands, she feels her other half desperately searching for something. A heavy pain on her conscious. She know she won’t accomplish what she wants, but she’ll try everything within her power to. So she runs, her pack far behind her, but still following.

Her vision fades back to the Godswoods at the howl of what she thinks to be Ghost’s. She knows he wouldn’t leave Jon’s side and takes it as a reassurance of him being alive.

Good. She hopes he and his Dragon Queen live a long and happy life.

She realizes only now that she’ll never get to fully get to experience that. A connection of a lifetime. A family of her own. She doesn’t dwell on it too long, but considers herself lucky, at least, to only have had the first years of childhood and just one night. The realm, and most importantly her family, will have the complete opportunity to do so as she hasn’t.

She’s tired. She feels her breathing grow slower. The world is becoming more muddy and harder to comprehend. In the splatter of colors, she keeps them focused on the red of the Weirwood. No longer being able to think as the Old Gods drown out all other sounds.

The pack will survive.

**Author's Note:**

> next time on why tf can I only impulse write my favorite characters dying?? Or at least people responding to their deaths???? There’s probably something there to unpack, but aight.


End file.
